


Ulis' Curse, Cstheio's Blessing

by Mawgon



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Gen, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 02:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9269513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mawgon/pseuds/Mawgon
Summary: Tethimar goes fox hunting. Things do not transpire as expected by him.





	1. Chapter 1

Csevet ran. If he could get out of sight, he would be safe. 

Eshoravee was a labyrinth, to him, yet he could not hope it was so to its masters. The only thing he was sure about was where the outer walls were. Those were made of stone, high and forbidding. He had to get there, and as fast as possible. 

He ran up a staircase, but there was a maidservant sweeping the floor. A witness. Too risky. She could not afford to hide him from her master while he remained an elf, but if he turned here, she would scream.   
He ran through the corridor and tried all doors, but they were all locked. At the end of the corridor, there was a small window. 

The ‘hounds’ were coming after him. They would see him climb out of the window, but hopefully arrive too late to see more than that. 

There was nothing on the wall to hold on to, he could only jump.   
It was a long fall to the ground, and it ended with a sharp pain in his right ankle. Csevet ran some steps despite the pain, then rolled onto a piece of grass and started to change. 

Once he was in his fox form, he continued running, right into the forest. 

The forest here had not been used for wood, but nurtured as a further line of defense, which meant that it was rather hostile, as forests went. Thorny vines blocked the path, while in other places, the enormous crowns of old trees blocked out all sunlight and nothing could grow beneath. 

His fox form rejoiced in this wild, untamed nature, but the part of him that knew which fate he had just escaped was only the more frightened by it. 

Still, everything was better than being caught by Tethimar. Everything. In this moment, he regretted not having gone along with the less forceful propositions of the past. Perhaps one got used to it, over time? Other couriers coped, after all. 

Csevet crawled under the branches of a firtree and tried to decide whether he should change back to inspect his injured foot, or stay in fox form until morning. He could not afford to leave a broken limb untreated

Before he could come to any conclusion, he heard the barking of hounds, actual hounds this time. 

The hounds would recognize his smell, no matter what form he was in. The footprints on the muddy ground under the window would not fool them. 

He ran. While there was life, there was hope. Perhaps there was some uninhabitated burrow he could hide in. 

Not that it did real foxes any good ... but those were not foxhounds, they were larger, would have to dig him out instead of following him. 

When he finally collapsed, he had no idea where he was. Yet the hounds were still after him. 

Shining eyes in the darkness. 

Csevet made a half-hearted attempt to crawl away, but his body refused to move. 

No barking, he noticed belatedly. 

The creature that stepped out into the moonlight was a wolf, bigger than Csevet had ever seen, and pure white. 

It sniffed the air, then moved closer. Sniffed the air again. 

Before Csevet could do anything, even think of anything, the wolf had taken the fur at his neck between its teeth and was carrying him. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt. 

There was a burrow, but it was obviously inhabitated by that wolf. It, no, he pushed Csevet inside. Storing food for later?

The wolf turned around, his ears flattened. He growled. 

Csevet heard the barking of a pack of hounds and decided to wait out the results of the battle. Perhaps by the end of it he would have recovered enough to fight the survivors.

He had not thought he would be able to follow the events, but it appeared that Tethimar and some of his friends had come with the hounds to watch them tear Csevet apart. 

Now they got another kind of spectacle, and provided comments. 

“This is a monster!”

“Dost think we can catch him? Just think of this fellow fighting dogs, two at a time!”

So the wolf was winning. 

“Damned cur!” Was this Tethimar’s voice? The man hissed in pain, Csevet was pleased to hear. 

“Let’s retreat”, one of the men suggested timidly. Apparently, this was not a suggestion Tethimar would usually agree to. 

“Let’s follow the little fox, you mean”, Tethimar sneered. “The dogs got the wrong scent, we wasted enough time with this wild dog. We will make the boy pay for this.”

Csevet had no choice but to retreat further into the burrow when the wolf returned. 

He smelled of blood. Not only of dog blood, though. He must be injured, but the wounds did not seem to impair him much. He could still tear Csevet to pieces. 

However, he showed no inclination to do so. 

Instead, he laid down on the ground and ... oh. It was dark in the burrow, but Csevet knew what was happening, perhaps because the way the air moved, and the smells subtly changed. 

Of course. He was white, just like Csevet’s own fox form, and did not smell of wolf. 

“We are Deret. You can trust us. The hounds have left. Let us have a look at your foot.”

Csevet hesitated for a moment. Images flashed before his eyes. A bitch carrying her pup. A man, surrounded by enemies not his own. He made a decision.   
Shifting to his other form resulted in a distinct lack of space. Their bodies touched now. “Having a look at anything in this darkness will be difficult”, he replied drily. “We are Csevet.” No last names. Suited him just fine. 

“We did not mean -” Deret snapped, and for a moment, Csevet was frightened for his life. But then, the larger man interrupted himself. “We are sorry. We will have to touch you.”

“It is all right.” He had been touched in worse ways that night already. 

Much worse ways, he readjusted his assessment when he felt Deret’s hands on his ankle. They were warm and dry and the touch purposeful. “Only sprained.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“No, just someone who has some basic knowledge in assessing injuries. We know that we should treat those bites with alcohol, for example.”

“Alcohol? That burns.”

“We cannot afford anything more fancy. And there should be a bottle of some strong beverage somewhere in here.”

He knew it was there, so he had put it here himself, but could not remember what it was. Either a drinker, then, who cared little what his drink tasted of, or one who had only ever bought the stuff to treat wounds with. The latter seemed more plausible in light of recent events. 

Deret might be trying to hide his identity, but Csevet was pretty sure he knew that the man was some kind of soldier. Probably of high rank, or intending to rise to higher rank, as he made an effort to disguise his rural accent.

Used to being wounded, too. 

Cesvet felt for something bottle-shaped, and had soon found it. “Here. Though treating your wounds in the dark is far from optimal.”

“We know. We will do it properly once we are ... back home.” 

A member of the imperial guard who had gone to visit his hometown? Possibly. 

“We will try to help.”

So he did. He only had to grope a bit to find the wound on Deret’s back. There was a hiss when he applied the alcohol-soaked cloth to it, but no complaining. Of course. 

He could smell the wound on Deret’s thigh. It was bleeding, more than the other wounds. Fear grasped Csevet’s heart. This man could not die, it would just not be right. He reached for the wound, intending to do anything to make it better. 

What he actually touched was something entirely else. He froze, murmured an apology, while his heart beat so loud he could hardly hear his own voice. A fist to the face, with the accusation of being a pervert, was the preferable alternative to ... he remembered all too well. The shaking airship. Him stumbling, landing on a man’s lap, and ‘Such a pretty young boy can sit on our lap anytime’. He felt dirty whenever he thought of it. 

“’tis no matter”, Deret’s voice rang loud and clear through all the racing of Csevet’s heart. “There’s a bite on our right calf, if you would?”

Relieved, he directed his attention there. 

“Do you smell a lot of fresh blood? This wound worries us.”

So it was deep enough to be dangerous, even by the estimation of someone who had experience with wounds.“Is there anything you could do if the wound is too large?”

“Not really. We will just have to bind it up more tightly than we would usually, and hope for the best.” Deret sighed. It was a resigned sound, as though he had accepted that he might die because he had protected Csevet. “So the rumours are true? Tethimar hunts people?”

“We think he guessed our ... nature.” Tethimar had seemed to look right through him. “He called us a fox when ... before we changed.” Though perhaps he would treat any elf that way. 

“So he saw that you are a person, and still decided to hunt you.” Deret stated simply. “We do not think he guessed anything. Rather, we think he likes to think of people as animals in order to deceive his own conscience.” 

Csevet doubted that the man had a conscience in the first place. But he must know his actions were wrong. “He will not deceive the gods.”

“We are not sure the gods care.” 

He was not sure the gods even cared, and still helped others, even risking his own life?  
“They do not always help, but we trust that there is some justice. We like the idea of Ulis judging the dead and throwing the evildoers in a river of fire.” And he liked the idea of there being some reward for one such as kind as Deret. 

“Ulis cares least of all” His voice sounded bitter. 

“Personal experience?” There must be a story behind this. 

“It is said that Ulis is the one who cursed our family with, well, this.”

“Cursed?” He considered this a curse? Though he was obviously able to control when he turned into a wolf, and what he did during that time? “But, do continue.” 

“The first time we felt an urge to ... change shape was during a visit in our home village. We thought we were alone in the forest, but soon noticed there were children playing nearby. And then we noticed that it was not children playing, it was some boys ...You have heard it said that the halfwits are protected by Ulis?”

“Yes?” There was plenty proof this was not true in all cases, but Csevet somewhat hoped it might be the case in some. 

“Well, we saw five boys torment one who was too feeble-minded to fully understand what they were doing, or to fight back. We cannot recall all that they did, as we tried to forget, but they did make him eat worms. Ulis did nothing to protect him!”

Such moral outrage at the gods! For one who believed in their existence, Deret was very brave in criticising them. “What did you do?”

“Well, we only had to come closer and growl. The boys were cowards who ran away once they saw a wolf. Still. Ulis did not protect him.” 

Csevet could have said that sending a large wolf to his help was a rather effective means of protecting the boy, but chose to ask a question instesad. “Didn’t the halfwit run away with them?”

“No. We do not think he realized we were a wolf, might have thought us a tame dog. He smiled and thanked us.” 

“Fascinating.” Thanking a tame dog as though he were a person was something a half-wit might do, sure. It was nonsensical, and half-witted people did nonsensical things. However, Csevet had made it a habit to always question people’s motivations to do things. One survived longer that way. People did not do things merely because they were crazy. There was always a logic behind everything. A twisted one, sometimes, but still.

And the most logical thing was for the boy to have spent a lot of time with the clerics of Ulis, who would have considered it their duty to be kind to him, and tell him all the myths. Wolves, so myth had it, howled at the moon, singing Ulis’ praises. So what would be more natural than the god sending a large, moon-white wolf to help someone in need? 

Or the god had just given him clear sight. It would, after all, have been no good if he had ran away from his protector. 

“You said you consider yourself cursed?”

“Of course. We would not say it is a bad curse, but it is very inconvenient that we feel the urge to change shape every once in a while. And almost without exception, we end up in some trouble when we do. We take it that is not the case for you?”

Trouble that he decided to get involved in. “It is hard to tell. Trouble finds us regularly, regardless of whether we are a fox at the moment. And our mother found it very convenient. She passed the ability to us on her deathbed, and she always said she was blessed by the Lady of Stars. For a woman who lives alone with her young son, in a part of the city where even the city guard dares not go ... well. Let’s just say, a fox is sometimes in much less danger than a woman.” 

Some of her co-workers had slept on the factory floor when they had to work long hours, to not have to go home alone after dark. The woman who looked after him during days took extra money for keeping children overnight, but Csevet had never been one of those children. 

His mother had returned, every night, without fail, until she had died of a lung disease, probably caused by the factory work. 

“We see. Then perhaps you are different from us.” Deret sounded bitter, and Csevet could relate. It was nice to have found so similar to oneself, and would be disappointing to find they were completely different. “Perhaps. You end up in trouble? What kind of trouble? Being hunted?” For Csevet, turning into a fox was a way out of trouble, rather. 

“Well, no, not that. One time, we prowled the city and we had not gotten far before we heard the noises of a fight. Turned out a thug was trying to, ah, take advantage of a woman. He had a dagger and we still have the scars.”

It seemed, Ulis had plans. “But you could have stayed out of the fight?”

“No one who has a conscience could have stood by and done nothing!”

“Of course. But was there a supernatural pull towards it?” Was it even necessary to force this man to protect? It seemed to be in his very nature. 

“We have not paid attention. Perhaps? It would not have made a difference in any case.”

Csevet had finished cleaning the last wound and bound it with the piece of linen Deret handed him. 

“Thank you”, Deret said finally. “That was all. We hope Tethimar keeps his hounds in good health.”

“We thank you.” Tethimar’s hounds were probably healthier than the servants on the estate. But would certainly be killed if they showed signs of being rabid. “We have no money to repay your kindness, but perhaps we can compensate you in ... other ways?” 

He knew not whether he wanted Deret to take him up on the offer. He ought to get used to it, and this seemed bearable. But he wanted to see Deret as a hero, and a true, godsent hero, would not -

“Yes. You owe us a favour. We will call it in when we have need of something a fox can do. Or a courier.”

Had Deret not understood, or chosen to pretend that he did not understand what was offered? A favour to be called in at any time it was convenient would not have been something Csevet would have liked to promise to anyone else. For Deret, he would have done everything, without being asked, at this point. “How did you guess?”

“The leathers make it rather obvious.” A pause. “You should turn back for the night. We both should. There will be more space that way, and the fur might be warmer than your leathers.”

“Indeed.” And he would feel safer, too. Even though he knew he could trust Deret, it would be some time before he felt comfortable sleeping so close to a stranger, if ever. 

“We will escort you to the nearest village tomorrow.”

Csevet spent a night curled up against the wolf; almost as warm and comfortable as the bed he could have expected in Eshoravee. Perhaps moreso. 

The only thing that saddened him was that he would never be able to repay Deret’s kindness.


	2. Chapter 2

His curse. A blessing, his grandmother had called it, but she had only tried to comfort him. She was his mother’s mother, the curse was from his father’s line, and it was, very much, a curse. 

Sure, the ability to turn into a wolf might be useful. In some circumstances, though Deret had never encountered those. 

However, there was a downside, which was the strong urge to turn into a wolf and roam the wilderness. Sometimes it struck at inconvenient times. Such as now. He had looked forward to visiting his family. 

But no, it was not to be. 

He had only just put down his few belongings on his old bed in his parents’s house when the curse struck. 

The other thing that he hated about this, Deret thought as he ran through the darkness, was that he always got into trouble. Well, almost. Last time, he had been able to dig up an old fox burrow and enlarge it enough so that he could sit in there with relative ease, as well as store some useful things there. For the emergency that was certain to come. 

He had no idea why he had gone so close to Eshoravee. There was talk about the young Dach’osmer Tethimar. Nothing definite – no one would outright accuse a nobleman of anything. But still, parents warned their children away from him. 

The urge to go there had been strong, and in the end, Deret had given in. After all, he could stay away from the estate itself. 

He looked up at the pale moon. Cursed by Ulis, his father had said. Blessed by Ulis, his grandmother had insisted, as why would a god curse such a fine young man? 

Admittedly, it was not a bad curse. It went from parent to firstborn, and had the decency to only affect one person at a time. And there was none of this losing control and murdering people that some stories of curses like this told of. 

Still, it was annoying. Deret froze. Had he heard the barking of hounds? It was in the middle of the night, every decent man ought to be in bed, not hunting for entertainment, which was what this sounded like. 

He sniffed the air. Hounds, yes, but there was a scent that was closer. The prey, presumably, but it was not an animal scent. 

So the rumours were true. Tethimar was hunting a person. 

He growled. People could be executed for murdering a nobleman. A wolf could not. 

Slowly, he walked towards the hunters, when suddenly, on a clearing, there was a little white fox. 

Deret sniffed the air. There was no scent of fox. There was, however, the scent of person. Male. Rather young. 

Another one such as he?

But the little fox smelled of fear, and one of his hind paws – his foot – seemed injured. And then, he just collapsed on the forest floor. 

Deret acted without thinking. While he carried the little fox, it occurred to him that perhaps he should not have bitten his neck. But he tasted no blood, so he probably had been gentle enough. Hopefully. 

The little fox dangled helplessly in the air until Deret set him down at the burrow entrance and pushed him in. 

Deret turned around to face the hounds. Trouble had found him. Again. 

He had hoped to dispose of the hounds before the men followed them, but no such luck. They were brutes, rejoicing in the bloodshed, even though it was their own hounds that suffered worst. 

Poor dogs, they had not decided to hunt this prey, Deret was certain. 

So, when the opportunity came, he bit one of the men in the hand. 

The curses that followed were most satisfying. Even more satisfying was the fact that the men decided to retreat and take their badly wounded hounds with them. 

Now, he could see about the little fox. 

The little one had not moved and still smelled of fear. When Deret entered the burrow, he retreated until he was in the small space Deret had digged out beforehand. It was just big enough for two people, Deret hoped. 

He turned back. 

Being able to finally speak was a relief. “We are Deret”, he said, in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. “You can trust us. The hounds have left. Let us have a look at your foot.”

Telling the fox that he was to be trusted was nonsensical, Deret realized belatedly. Such statements were likely to be lies if they had to be made at all. 

The other one shifted, and suddenly, there was almost no space left. It was, indeed, just enough for two people. 

“Having a look at anything in this darkness will be difficult.” 

Deret felt a blush spread over his face. He had spoken without thinking. 

“We are Csevet.” 

“We did not mean -” No, he should not get angry. Perhaps the boy just tried to be funny because he was frightened. “We are sorry. We will have to touch you.” Which was probably why he had spoken without thinking. Touching other people – strangers - was not something he liked. 

“It is all right.” 

It took some time to find Csevet’s ankle. Time in which Deret touched enough leather to know the boy’s, no, the young man’s profession. A courier. Come to Eshoravee with an important message, and as reward he was hunted with hounds. 

The ankle was heated and beginning to swell, but the bones felt intact. “Only sprained.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“No, just someone who has some basic knowledge in assessing injuries. We know that we should treat those bites with alcohol, for example.” Why did he always run into trouble in his wolf shape? He was a law abiding citizen and never got into any fights as man. 

“Alcohol? That burns.” There was sympathy in Csevet’s voice. Not pity; it was the sympathy of someone who knew from experience. 

“We cannot afford anything more fancy. And there should be a bottle of some strong beverage somewhere in here.”

Csevet found it first and pushed it into Deret’s hand. “Here. Though treating your wounds in the dark is far from optimal.”

“We know. We will do it properly once we are ... back home.” 

“We will try to help.”

For some reason, his clothes always remained unharmed when he was wounded in his wolf form, which Deret was very grateful for. He could not have afforded to buy new shirts every time.   
There were, of course, the bloodstains, but those could be washed out. He took off the shirt and carefully folded it so that the inside would remain clean before he placed it in the entrance of the burrow. 

Somewhere, he had also placed the torn remains of a bedsheet that would hopefully suffice to clean and bind his wounds.  
Ah, there it was. Wrapped in waxed linen, he had taken no chances. Now, if only he could remember where he had placed what ... right, the pieces for cleaning the wounds were on top. 

Deret soaked two in alcohol and offered one to Csevet. “There is a wound somewhere on our back, between the shoulder blades.” 

He bit his teeth together. It burnt horribly. But he did not dare to leave the wounds untreated. A nobleman’s hounds would not be rabid, he hoped, against which this would be of no use anyway, but there were many other unpleasant ... things. His grandmother claimed the bad juices in the dog’s spit that caused wounds to fester were of the same nature as those that caused fevers, and both were to be combated best with herbs that had a strong smell, or, in lieu of that, more or less anything that caused a burning sensation. 

After all the wounds on his upper body were securely wrapped in linen, Deret put his shirt back on and undid the laces of his trousers. “They got our legs, too.” There was not enough room, and the way he wriggled out of the garment would no doubt have looked very undignified if there had been any light to see. 

It was increasingly hard to tell where the wounds were, too, as his muscles ached, and the pain seemed to be everywhere. 

“We can smell the blood. Let us – Sorry!”

He had moved at the same time as Csevet, who had no doubt reached for his thigh, but had now touched his private parts. “’tis no matter”, he mumbled. He could smell Csevet’s fear, fear, not embarrassment. Strange. “There’s a bite on our right calf, if you would?” 

The smell of fear faded but did not vanish altogether while Csevet directed his attention to the calf. 

There was indeed a wound on his thigh, and it bled more than the others. “Do you smell a lot of fresh blood?” The smell of his own blood was not so intense to him, Csevet’s fear was much more pronounced. “This wound worries us.”

“Is there anything you could do if the wound is too large?”

“Not really. We will just have to bind it up more tightly than we would usually, and hope for the best.” He sighed. Why did he always end up in such messes? At least now he was not alone. The reasons for that were, however, most worrying. “So the rumours are true? Tethimar hunts people?”

“We think he guessed our ... nature.” The smell of fear intensified. “He called us a fox when ... before we changed.”

“So he saw that you are a person, and still decided to hunt you.” That was why Tethimar’s ‘fox hunts’ were talked of in hushed voices, then. It had confused Deret, as Count Tethimel also hunted foxes, and that was something that had been talked of loudly, and sometimes cheerfully.   
Now he knew. “We do not think he guessed anything. Rather, we think he likes to think of people as animals in order to deceive his own conscience.” He had noticed some patterns in who talked of people as if they were animals, and had developed a rather pronounced dislike for men who called beautiful women “wildcat” or “vixen”. 

“He will not deceive the gods.”

“We are not sure the gods care.” 

“They do not always help, but we trust that there is some justice. We like the idea of Ulis judging the dead and throwing the evildoers in a river of fire.” 

“Ulis cares least of all”, Deret said bitterly. 

“Personal experience?” 

“It is said that Ulis is the one who cursed our family with, well, this.”

“Cursed?” Csevet seemed not to understand. “But, do continue.”

“The first time we felt an urge to ... change shape was during a visit in our home village. We thought we were alone in the forest, but soon noticed there were children playing nearby. And then we noticed that it was not children playing, it was some boys ...” Deret swallowed. “You have heard it said that the halfwits are protected by Ulis?”

“Yes?”

“Well, we saw five boys torment one who was too feeble-minded to fully understand what they were doing, or to fight back. We cannot recall all that they did, as we tried to forget, but they did make him eat worms.” He shuddered. “Ulis did nothing to protect him!”

“What did you do?”

“Well, we only had to come closer and growl. The boys were cowards who ran away once they saw a wolf. Still. Ulis did not protect him.” It had shaken his naive trust in the rightness and justness of the world to the core. 

“Didn’t the halfwit run away with them?”

“No.” That had been strange. “We do not think he realized we were a wolf, might have thought us a tame dog. He smiled and thanked us.” Deret had only realized in hindsight how strange this had been. At first, he had thought it perfectly normal and even tried to say “You are welcome”, before realizing that he could not talk.   
The boy had thanked a dog, in polite words, perhaps even called him ‘Osmer’ as the peasants did with everyone who looked like he might be nobility. 

“Fascinating.” Csevet sounded like he had gleaned more from the tale than Deret had thought he had said. “You said you consider yourself cursed?”

“Of course. We would not say it is a bad curse, but it is very inconvenient that we feel the urge to change shape every once in a while. And almost without exception, we end up in some trouble when we do. We take it that is not the case for you?”

“It is hard to tell. Trouble finds us regularly, regardless of whether we are a fox at the moment. And our mother found it very convenient. She passed the ability to us on her deathbed, and she always said she was blessed by the Lady of Stars. For a woman who lives alone with her young son, in a part of the city where even the city guard dares not go ... well. Let’s just say, a fox is sometimes in much less danger than a woman.” 

“We see. Then perhaps you are different from us.” He should not be disappointed, really, but he was. It had been such a relief, to have found someone who was afflicted by the same curse.

“Perhaps. You end up in trouble? What kind of trouble? Being hunted?” 

“Well, no, not that. One time, we prowled the city and we had not gotten far before we heard the noises of a fight. Turned out a thug was trying to, ah, take advantage of a woman. He had a dagger and we still have the scars.”

“But you could have stayed out of the fight?”

Deret frowned. “No one who has a conscience could have stood by and done nothing!”

“Of course. But was there a supernatural pull towards it?”

“We have not paid attention. Perhaps? It would not have made a difference in any case.”

Csevet finished binding the wound on his calf. 

“Thank you”, Deret said. “That was all. We hope Tethimar keeps his hounds in good health.”

“We thank you. We have no money to repay your kindness, but perhaps we can compensate you in ... other ways?” 

He would never have demanded money as reward, especially not from a courier who likely had even less than he. However, it would be foolish to turn down such an offer. He was steadily rising in the ranks of the palace guard, and seemed to have a good life ahead of him, but one never knew what tomorrow would bring. Especially not if one was afflicted by such a curse. “Yes. You owe us a favour. We will call it in when we have need of something a fox can do. Or a courier.” 

“How did you guess?”

“The leathers make it rather obvious.” A pause. “You should turn back for the night. We both should. There will be more space that way, and the fur might be warmer than your leathers.” He had had this before. The woman he had saved in the city had dressed his wounds, and he had, unthinkingly, turned back into a man. To his surprise, this had not affected the bandages; they had still been there, under his clothes. 

“Indeed.”

“We will escort you to the nearest village tomorrow.” He could help Csevet walk the last part of the way, and then claim that the sprained ankle had only happened that day and by lucky coincidence, he had been there. 

As for the bloodstained shirt, he had a clean one hidden in a stash closer to the village.


End file.
